


Take a Break

by JupiterJoon



Category: Chungha (Musician), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chungha is receiving, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Face-Fucking, I marked this other because it's F/R-I and Idk if that is considered other just let me know, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader is giving, Reader-Insert, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 01:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JupiterJoon/pseuds/JupiterJoon
Summary: Your girlfriend finally calls you over on her downtime but she’s distracted. You help take her mind off things for a bit.





	Take a Break

**Author's Note:**

> 100% this is a thirst dream and Chungha is a queen. Take a Break wit Chungha in this short read ;)

“I’m so. So. So. Bored,” you huff, flopping around Chungha’s bed with each “so”. You kick your feet side to side with a thud to the mattress, hoping it would attract Chungha’s attention, wonder what catastrophe your boredom could be causing. 

But she sits there, studying. Still studying. Your eyes had sunk back into your skull a half-hour ago, but she still reviews her showcases over and over. And over. The muffled sounds of cheers and steady vocals echo in the studio apartment.

When you told Chungha you just wanted to see her, you thought she realized you meant a bit more than  _ literally _ only seeing her. 

She could at least be here on the bed, with  _ you. _ Rolling again, you whine in frustration.

“Why don’t you make something to eat,” Chungha finally acknowledges that she’s listening. You stop playing with your hair over the edge of the bed and look over at her, only to find her staring at the screen. Her knees tucked up on the chair, thumb to her mouth as she chews on a decorative nail.

You huff for the millionth time. Staring at her curled-up profile in the office chair, you realize there’s nothing underneath her sweater. You squint at her face, trying to decipher if there really are ulterior motives here. She rolls her lip between her teeth the way she usually does when she’s fretting. You want to be rolling her lip between your own teeth.

That brings your knees together. You rock them back and forth with a new reason. So tempting and she doesn’t even know it, so hung up on reviewing her stage presence.

“I don’t need to  _ make _ anything to eat, my snack is just ignoring me,” you roll over again. Propping your head on your hands, you hope the terrible joke encourages Chungha to turn around and see your cleavage tucked into the comforter.

No luck. Again. “I can’t believe that exhibit had my face everywhere,” she covers the aforementioned face, just a mess of pink nails and bleach-blond hair. “It’s so embarrassing.”

You groan loudly. This is getting nowhere. When Chungha called you over, she said she needed a night with you. Over the past few weeks, she’d been insanely busy and you’d been understanding. While your job has the same monotonous flow, her schedule constantly fluctuates with comebacks, music videos, shootings, trips. Out of vacation time, you were stuck with the nights where she let you know she has availability. Those moments you spend curled up laughing in bed together, joking about her dances with men or the strange things she encounters abroad.

But now, with her sitting feet away, she tortures you. You become impatient. But she clicks back and forth and trades off between “hm”s and “ugh”s at her desk. And dammit, it’s cute to watch her try so hard.

But it frustrates you. Chungha’s gorgeous. She performs almost perfectly every show. She has an amazing fan presence. Yet, the fact that she could always do better filled her mind. The woman sat at the desk, a ball of nerves doesn’t match the powerful vocalist you see in the videos.

“Chungha,” you mumble, trying to sound interested in something. You tuck your bra straps farther to the sides. “Didn’t you say my job is to distract you when you’re in too deep?”

“That’s true,” she mumbles into her chewed nail, “but really, I’m almost done. Why don’t you write or something.”

You puff out your bottom lip. This was your break from writing… unless… “You stare at your girlfriend, sitting in her chair, entranced by her work.”

Chungha snorts. “Fanfiction?”

“I mean, I was your fan. I’ve written about you before. And now,” you wave your hand at your current position, “I’ll  _ always _ be your fan.” Which is true.

You clear your throat. “You look her over, still amazed you landed such an incredible woman.” A slight smile tugs at Chungha’s mouth. At least she’s paying attention now. You roll over, head propped in your hands.

“She’s effortlessly gorgeous. Propped in her chair, nothing but a sweater and shorts. You can even tell she’s not wearing a bra-”

“Hey!” Chungha shouts, wrapping her arms around herself. She cuts you a warning glance.

“With only one thin layer of fabric, it spurs on your imagination.” You roll over, staring at the ceiling with a sigh. “Her soft tummy, her supple breasts-”

“No!” Chungha whines. “Don’t say words like that out loud.”

You chuckle. “Her appearance, always striking on stage, is soft. Just like her personality. You’re captivated by the contrast of an aggressive woman who becomes so shy, embarrassed to walk by posters of her own face lining malls.”

Chungha sighs, pausing the videos. “Now this is a personal attack.” You roll your head to the side at the sound of her chair swiveling.

“You want her attention,” you continue, cocking an eyebrow in her direction. “And, starved from having to stare at her for two hours, you’ll do anything to get it.” Chungha slouches back in the chair, amused. “You’re a brat,” she starts to speak, forgetting that the second person is meant for you and not her, “and you’ll do whatever it takes to get what you want, what you know she wants.”

Chungha stands, stretching. The bottom of her sweater lifts, and you catch the sparkle of her belly ring. Her hands flop back to the side, hands on her hips. “You know what I want?”

“Of course,” you sit up. You give her a cocky gaze. “Your favorite thing about Chungha is that no matter what persona you see, she’s always a strong woman. A strong woman who gets what she wants.”

Chungha giggles, looking away as she walks forward. Her knees press against the edge of her bed. “Finally having her attention, Chungha’s eyes drink you in, splayed out on her bed.” You bring your knees together, hands above your head, exposed for her. “As she gazes on, you stare up at her in admiration.”

“Oh, is that what you call this?” Chungha smirks, tossing her hair. There she is. The flip is starting to switch.

“Mhm,” you nod slowly. “You’re exposed below her gaze, but she’s exposed beneath yours too. You love the way-”

“Chungha wonders how to get her girlfriend to shut up,” Chungha interjects, jutting her hip out. It’s not that she’s had enough of your yammering, but that she can’t stand anymore dissected praise.

You bite your lip, rolling back up to sit. “Chungha goes through several options in her head,” you scoot back. “But she chooses the best one.” You lay back just below the stacks of pillows. “One that will kill two birds with one stone.”

Chungha blinks a few times. Then, her posture softens, becoming lythe as she steps onto the bed. "You're fucking ridiculous," she scolds, but she can't hide her smile.

The mattress dips back and forth, rocking you like the sea. “Her legs, sinewy from years of dance, flex as she walks towards you.” She stands over you, feet by your elbows.  “You think abou-”

Chungha drops suddenly. The bed bounces as her knees land on either side of you, head rolling with the force. Her hand clamps over your mouth.

“When comes the part where you finally shut up?” She asks, tutting despite blushing cheeks. Her head tilts as she runs her hands through your hair, observing how responsive you are to her finally touching you.

You wrap an arm over her hip, pulling her hand from your mouth to kiss her knuckles. “Do you like my story?”

Chungha scoffs, then nods. “You wanna see where it goes next?”

“How about we work on some research instead?” Chungha asks. A thrill runs down your spine. Chungha leans back a bit, crossing her arm over her waist, then slowly peels off her sweater. You lick your lips, mouth feeling dry. You missed whenever Chungha had slipped off the shorts to only be in her thong, and as the shirt comes over her head, curls of hair fall over her exposed breasts, brushing against hard nipples. She sits, confident and beautiful, atop you still clothed. 

She leans in slowly, eyes locked with yours until she’s hovering above your mouth. She rubs her thumb under your eye, nails scratching the nape of your neck. Her smile curves into a smirk. Off came the shirt and on came the libido. “Isn’t that what you call this? Research?”

“I’ll call it whatever you want, as long as you keep giving more,” you breathe out, trying not to tempt her away. So close, so close to finally getting her lips on yours after weeks of not seeing each other, not even bringing a coffee. And she knows. Her eyes dart between yours, looking much more satisfied than desperate.

Her lips brush against yours, chaste. You sigh into her mouth when she returns, a bit firmer, only to pull back again. The next time she ducks in, you catch her lips between your own. She pulls off, lips parted.

“I missed your lips,” she whispers against your mouth.

“I missed you,” you whisper back, a bit more breathless. She runs her tongue over your bottom lip. You can’t help but groan. Your hands wrap around her thighs, digging into the skin. She squirms a bit, so you dig harder. You try to kiss her again, but she sits back up, pressure shifting to her knees.

“You are so obvious,” Chungha teased, tossing her hair to the side.

“Someone has to be when you won’t give up that ‘hard to get’ act,” you argue. “Also, how the hell do you look this good from down here?” You plant an open mouth kiss to each of her thighs. Chungha laughs, light and sweet. With her whole body on display, smile beaming down at you, it’s a dangerous sound. You could feel the heat in your cheeks rising.

“I don’t know who's playing hard to get when I’ve been sitting here waiting to shut you up, see those lips I’ve missed put to work” Chungha counters. She shifts up, knees scooting closer to the crown of your head. Your eyes dart down and you moan. Purple lace starts to crowd your vision. You wrap a hand around, pulling at the string of her thong.

“God, you’re beautiful.”

Chungha giggles a little softer. Any woman, knowing she’s being watched from this angle, maybe a little shy. Especially a woman like Chungha, constantly concerned with her appearance, seeing her face everywhere, knowing people are watching even when she’s unaware.

“I love seeing you like this,” you continue, other hand kneading the back of her ass, pushing her just a little closer. “I can’t get enough. Just looking up at you, your soft skin, and god,” you pull the lace to the side finally, greeted by her folds, only inches from your face, already glistening. “It’s the most beautiful pussy I’ve ever seen.”

You feel Chungha shift and you glance back up. SHe’s covering her face, peeking down at you through her fingers. Her hands were so tiny compared to yours. Chungha, in general, felt small. Her limbs were so slim. Her voice is soft and kind. The small giggles she has when she’s nervous. Your jaw drops a bit. “You are not allowed to look that cute while sitting over me this sexy.”

You reach for her thighs again, grabbing greedily. She scoots up the last bit, then starts to sink down as you guide her, knees pushing out. You press open-mouthed kisses to her thighs. You move in, slow and deliberate, kissing against the skin where her thighs meet her mound, gazing up her tight stomach, seeing her watching you. Her hands start to drop from her face.

You bite your lip. It’s nice to know that you get to see this. Even in her strongest moments, those giveaways that she’s still the sweet girl you know.

It’s dirty.

You love it.

Finally, you mouth over her middle. Her breath hitches. You kiss again. Mouth moving languidly between her legs, pushing a bit more passed her folds each time. Her breathing starts to relax, and her head rolls back. You close your eyes, finally focusing on your task now that she’s in the moment.

Your tongue stretches out, getting the first taste of her. Almost sweet, slightly metallic. Uniquely her.

You take her outer folds into your mouth, sucking lightly. Her hips buck, a signal that she’s already ready for more. You graze the sides of her, lapping of the wetness.

As she sinks deeper onto you, your fingers trapping the lace reach out to give you better access. You pull back a bit, admiring the view. She’s gorgeous, every aspect of her. You stretch farther, mouthing wet kisses into the familiar space. Your tongue dips ever so slightly into her entrance before gliding all the way back up. You continue to run your other hand over her lower her ass and thighs, light strokes. She leans back, weight shifting to her arms rather than your face, giving you a better angle. You drag your tongue up and around her sensitive bud, refusing to touch it just yet. Her hips roll again, silently asking for it. But you continue, dipping down and dragging back up over the top. 

“Fuck,” she finally says in a shaky voice. You preen, humming into her folds as you stroke your flattened tongue up to her clit and back down. “Fuck, please.” It’s even shakier. You clamp down onto her thighs, pulling her farther into you, and plant your mouth over her clit, sucking hard. She tries to jerk, but you’re holding her down, sucking and sliding your lips over her sensitive bud while your tongue laps out each time she tries to buck a little harder. 

Finally, she moans with a firm twirl of your tongue. Blessing you with some kind of cue that she’s cracking. You’re making her crack. You lessen up, back to steady strokes of your tongue. You try to shift underneath her, and she obliges, switching her weight on shaky legs so you can free your arm. You glance up again, but you’re unable to see her face as she’s bent back, still propped on her hands which grab at your thighs for support.

You slip one finger in, then two, pulling your lips tighter and nuzzling your nose into her mound. She cries out again as you crook your fingers. You start to suck again, lightly, as your fingers do the work, curling hard in time with your pulls. Your one hand isn’t enough to hold her down as her hips become erratic, begging for a faster pace as you continue to stroke her in a rhythmic pattern.

Finally, you see her tick. Her head shoots back up, hair falling in her face, lips pinched as she whines. You feel it, her core clenching tighter and tighter around your fingers, but you are relentless, refusing to speed up or lessen your grip.

She cries out, almost like a melodic scream. It echoes off the walls of her apartment, and you moan back into her, fighting against her walls clenched around your fingers, tongue lapping over her pearl as you feel her body contract and release around you. She’s whining, crying out, writhing against you, and you love it. Completely at the mercy of her hips as her orgasm washes over her, driving her to do whatever is necessary for absolute pleasure.

As her cries die down into heaving breaths, you return to kissing her bud, the petals of her labia, removing your fingers to caress her sides. She falls back, ass landing on her chest, looking down at you with a beaming smile and flushed cheeks. It’s the image of the perfect woman, a gaze mixed with bliss and adoration. And it’s for you.

You smile back up at her, licking your lips dramatically. She rolls her lips together before shifting her knees back, crouching over you. Her lips lock with yours without a second to comment. Her tongue licks behind your teeth, spins with your own, asking to be chased back into her mouth. She tastes herself, smile making the kiss sloppy as she whispers thank yous and words of praise.

You smile back, wrapping your fingers in her hair as you brush it from her face. She settles on top of you, nuzzling into your chest as you stroke your fingers through her hair.

“Amazing, every time amazing,” she sighs, hands snaking around your waist. Her head pops up again, pouting. “Remind me why I try to put that off so much?”

“Because your narcissism works against you instead of with you,” you state matter of factly, nodding to the computer screen that still has 10 different performances pulled up on youtube. She leans in to bite your lip as a scold, but you can’t help the whine. She rolls over, kissing your cheek, your jaw.

“Give me another minute to recover, and I’ll show you how amazing I think you are,” Chungha whispers in your ear. Another shiver down your spine. You always feel amazing just next to her. Being hers. Before you can make any comment, though, her finger is under your chin, turning you back in for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think in the comments of visit my Tumblr Joopiterjoon :)


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